The Swan Maiden
by Hitomi Zotz
Summary: Matt Bluestone finds a woman injured in a lake but all is not as it seems. Avalon is in turmoil, the swan king has overthrown Oberon. Oberon's Children and evil forces believe this woman is the key to power in Avalon. Only Matt, Elisa and the gargoyles can help. Will the tricksters Coyote, Raven and Puck help or hinder? Will Xanatos seize an opportunity for power?
1. Chapter 1- Swan Lake

It was a cool, crisp, snowy morning, the sky was a deep, dark blue waiting for the delayed dawn of winter and the only sounds belonged to the animals as the nocturnal ones slowly made their way to bed with one final look for an early risen prey. It was still too early for the chirp of morning birds but that only emphasised the peace. The lake shimmered beneath the pale white moonlight like a mirror, beautified with the silent presence of slumbering swans and Belvedere Castle as a backdrop, it was almost like a fairytale. Matt Bluestone didn't know if the body ruined the atmosphere or added a haunting appeal to it. He contemplated voicing his thoughts on the matter to his partner Elisa Maza but she already looked unhappy about it.

The body belonged to a young male somewhere in his early twenties, pasty faced and dark haired, he was clad in jeans, a loose fitted shirt and scuffed, brown shoes, hardly appropriate for the weather. Matt and Elisa knew the man as James Shanks, also known as Jimmy the Mouse, a pipsqueak drug user who always seemed to be caught up with the wrong people. He had a strong enough addiction to heroin that he was well known for doing whatever dirty task he had to for whomever he had to, to get his next fix but equally he was terrified of going to jail and had cut more than one deal with the cops to stay out of jail.

"Well his existence was always going to be a temporary one," Matt remarked jovially.

Elisa gave her partner a frown. "I'll admit he was scum but he was young, he still had time to change and now he doesn't," she remarked pityingly.

"He wouldn't have changed," Matt grumbled as his breath misted out before him. He tugged the collar of his tan jacket up and close to the sides of his face.

Elisa scowled at her partner. She was too tired and cold for his condescending outlook on this case, she had been up all evening with the gargoyles thwarting yet another of the Pack's schemes, her muscles were sore and ready for bed and now with this recent murder bed was looking a lot further away. "Maybe you should canvas the scene for evidence," she suggested. "It's a cold morning, we might get lucky and find some preserved. Like this blood," she said as she pointed to the large, hardened stains of blood pooled behind Jimmy's head. "He must have died here."

"At least he died with a good view," Matt appraised as he cast his gaze back on the lake. "Think the swans seen anything?" Catching Elisa's appropriately frosty brown stare, he shrugged and started pacing around the lake.

Matt dug his hands deep in the pockets of his tan trench coat as he walked a little more briskly around the lake than he should have. He didn't believe he was going to find anything and he didn't believe that Elisa believed it, she just wanted him out of the way for a moment. The detective sighed moodily at this thought, surrounding himself in a temporary puff of misty white breath.

Elisa had trusted him with the gargoyles only when he had pushed for it and when she had learned about his business with Goliath and Mace Malone she had been less than impressed. The fact that Matt had picked loyalty to Goliath over finally getting proof of the Illuminati had mattered only a little to Elisa. She had been calm about it as she usually was about things but had pointed out that it had been a big risk, dangerous and reckless and especially bad given it had been his first meeting with Goliath. Had it gone wrong it could have ruined the already tentative building of trust between gargoyles and humans. Matt had grumbled that Goliath was centuries old and had enough experience to handle the risk and then added that Elisa was just sore at being left out of the mission. They had left the matter at that and resumed their friendship but Matt knew Elisa was still keeping him at a distance.

The redhead stopped when he heard a loud disturbance in the lake. He turned his pale blue gaze out to the silvery water where the swans were making a ruckus. He squinted trying to confirm he was actually seeing what he was seeing. The swans were flapping about and squawking angrily close to the shore on his side as a woman seemed to appear amongst them, splashing out frantically before she fell into the water.

"It would be in the middle of winter wouldn't it?" Matt grumbled to himself dryly as he abandoned his coat to the ground. "Couldn't be summer when I might not mind a swim." He kicked off his shoes and socks and hurried into the water wondering if he looked heroic. He imagined he didn't, in fact he was quite certain he looked like a madman blundering loudly into an ice cold lake in the middle of winter.

The cold water almost sent Matt's body into shock. Immediately his mind was screaming 'Matt have you lost your God damn mind?!' whilst his flesh tensed and quivered and his teeth chattered. He had to wade in until the water was at his chin, she was in the shallows but not close enough. Matt let out a curse when a swan came at him with a fierce eyed look and tried to peck at his nose. "Oh leave me alone!" he snapped as he waved it off angrily, splashing himself in the process.

Matt reached the woman and wrapped his arms under hers to cross under her bust before he started kicking, leaning back and heading for the shore again. His clothes were soaked and began to drag him down and he inhaled several mouthfuls of icy water as his head started to bob under the water. His movements were becoming sluggish as the cold filled him inside and out. He knew how quickly the cold could affect someone, how fast one could lose energy in the water and drown. Hypothermia could set in, in mere seconds.

'Keep going,' he urged himself sternly, 'no dying before Christmas Matt, that's too tragic.'

They reached the shore and Matt dragged himself and the woman back onto the cold, hard earth. Only then did he notice her wounds. Her back was raw and bloodied as if something had been torn from it. Before he bundled his coat about her, rescuing his phone from the pocket first, Matt noticed something else odd as well- there were a couple of feathers on her back, black ones sticking up in an odd fashion. He dismissed them as stray feathers from the lake though he knew that wasn't right and began ringing for help.

Elisa got to them first, finding Matt sheepish faced, teeth chattering, hands burrowed in his armpits and lips turning blue. His companion was almost unconscious, leaning against him with his coat over her rather than on her. She blinked up at Elisa with a frightened, wounded, blue gaze that was more animal than human.

Elisa shook her head scornfully, she wanted to offer her jacket to Matt but it was at least two sizes too small. "You're soaking," she chided Matt, "and liable to freeze to death, what were you thinking?"

Matt gave her a smile but resisted the urge to answer, 'damsel in distress, I had to be heroic'. He didn't want to earn another glower and he didn't really want the woman to hear him call her a damsel.

The blue and red lights of the ambulance lit up the park as the emergency vehicle chased towards them followed by a police patrol car. Matt filled with relief, a few minutes more and he would probably have frozen to death.

The staff were prompt in getting Matt and the woman wrapped up in the tinfoil like heat blankets and into the ambulance and securing the scene. Elisa shrugged at their questions, clueless as to what had happened, and bid Matt farewell, vowing to get details later. She left the scene with a patrol cop and headed back to the body, one case was enough for the morning, frankly she thought Matt was getting off easy escaping in a warm ambulance.

At the hospital the woman tensed against the red-headed detective, her grasp against his arms turning tight as she blinked her large eyes about the emergency room fearfully. It was busy as winter always was and full of the sounds of chatter, wails, shrieks, phones ringing, people cursing and shouting, footsteps, vending machines shaking and shuddering, police and criminals debating with doctors and nurses, machines beeping, and the underlying hum of the unfriendly white strobe lights above.

Several eyes turned to the woman barely clad in the now damp trench coat, widening when they glimpsed her thin, pearly white legs. Matt frowned back at them and tugged his coat tighter about her with one hand. She really was a rather odd creature. She was pale skinned, almost blue with the chill, with large, icy blue eyes that looked confused and frightened, and coal black hair. Her stare was a rather beguiling gaze in a way, the bright pleading eyes of a damsel definitely. Matt turned his attention to her hair, long and black, it cascaded down her back almost to her waist, it was an odd shade with no strands of brown or sheen of blue, if anything it swallowed the light rather than reflected it, and it was strange but at the roots it seemed so soft but not like hair should be but something else.

"Sir she really needs to come through," a nurse addressed Matt with a serious stare, "there's blood coming through your coat," she added quietly.

Matt snapped to attention at that, ready to release the woman until he realised he wasn't holding onto her, she was holding on to him. "Er...miss," he addressed her awkwardly, "you need to go get help now and I probably need checked for hyperthermia. Don't worry," he added with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "you'll be okay and I won't be far." He was certain there was protocol that should be followed, tests that should be carried out but if she was still bleeding from her back that had to take priority. The normal procedures and paperwork could be filled out later.

"Sir just bring her," the nurse snapped anxiously as she waved him on.

Matt followed obediently but it wasn't easy, the woman was like a rabbit in headlights, frozen up with wide eyes and very reluctant to move. Matt tried to ease her off and turn her away, accidentally pressing a hand against her back and a damp stain as he did. She gave a yelp of pain and jerked back instinctively. Free now, he clasped her by one damp, shaking hand and tugged her along after the nurse.

"I'm sorry," Matt murmured. He wasn't really sure why, it had been an accident after all and she wasn't making it easy.

They reached a private examination room where the nurse attempted to urge the woman from Matt to a black plinth with a a curtain ready to go around it. The woman's grasp became like iron and she instinctively shrunk back against the detective with a look of uncertainty.

"It's alright," Matt murmured. "I need to wait outside anyway. Come on, you're bleeding." He stood a step forward and tugged her with him before urging her to sit on the edge of the bed. "You take off my coat," he instructed her, "and let the nurse take a look, it won't take long I'm sure." With some effort he freed his hand from the woman and stepped back. He turned to head for the door and a heard a low noise of protest, not exactly a whimper but definitely a noise of upset.

"Just stay in the room," the nurse said wearily before she tugged the curtain closed about herself and the woman. The nurse was gentle as she eased the coat off the girl, taking care to be slow about the back. She took in the wounds with a critical stare before she reached for cotton swabs and disinfectant. "This is going to hurt," she warned, "but it will stop any infection from settling in."

From the other side of the curtain Matt winced at the soft shrieks of pain that followed.

The nurse cleaned up the wounds and was dismayed to see how deep they were. "We'll need the doctor to take a look," she murmured. She called for the doctor and while waiting did her best to cease the bleeding. Like Matt she felt it looked like something had been torn out of the woman's back.

The doctor, a middle aged female with long, reddish-brown hair, plump lips and bright, brown eyes arrived briskly. She paused at the sight of Matt with a look of surprise in her gaze that she replaced quickly with disdain. "Detective Blackstone," she murmured icily.

"Bluestone," he corrected automatically though he knew the mistake was intentional. "How are you Becky...er Dr. Fields?" he queried awkwardly.

The doctor's frown deepened as she strode past him to the nurse standing peering out from the curtains. "Criminal or victim?" she quipped quietly.

"Victim," Matt answered.

"Makes a change for you," Dr. Fields murmured before she joined the nurse behind the curtain. The doctor took in the woman's lean nude form with a cold curiosity before looking to the wounds. "What's your name?" she queried gently as she snapped on a pair of disposable gloves offered up by the nurse.

The woman did not reply.

"She's made a few noises of pain but she hasn't spoken," the nurse explained.

"Bluestone," the doctor called back as she accepted a cloth to wipe away the blood, "does she have a name?"  
"I'm sure she does," Matt answered cheerfully, "but I don't know it yet."

The doctor shook her head scornfully before she examined the wounds cautiously, leaning down to get a closer look. Her eyes widened at the black feather sticking out before she reached for it. She expected the feather to come away with ease, assuming it was stuck with blood, she was astonished when she had to tug it free as if it was in fact growing up from the skin. A wail of anguish followed from the woman.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said hastily, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

The woman let a low moan of pain as she clenched her fists against the leather beneath her and her feet trembled against it.

"You're alright," the doctor assured, "I just need to clean these wounds up. Deep breaths, it will be over soon, I promise and then we will give you something for the pain."

Dr. Fields moved with haste, cleaning and stitching up the wounds with speed but care before she bound them up in gauze and bid the nurse to find a robe for the girl and bring back some painkillers. "There, now you rest here for a moment," she advised, "while I speak with the detective."

Dr. Fields slipped back through the curtain to Matt who was still damp and pale faced and had dripped several puddles of water until the lino floor. "Jesus Bluestone contamination," Dr. Fields scorned. She stepped up to him, glanced over her shoulder at the blue curtain and then queried quietly, "where did she come from?"

"The lake," Matt answered cryptically.

"The lake?" Dr. Fields repeated with a critical stare. "What, am I to believe she just swam into you?"

Matt grinned. "Something like that."

"Naked."

Matt nodded.

"Bull," Dr. Fields scorned. "In a fantasy maybe but not reality. She turned up naked and bloody..." She paused and shook her head. "I suppose I should recommend her for a sexual assault examination then."

Matt frowned. "I don't think it's like that," he protested, "she's no bruising or other wounds."

"Well she's in shock from something," the doctor murmured, "and she didn't make those wounds herself, that's impossible."

"What do you think did it?" Matt queried.

The doctor shrugged. "I don't know for sure, they're deeper than look, like something was carved out of her but her bones are in tact and there's only a little bit of skin torn. Look, we can keep her for examination for a day tops," she offered.

Matt debated over that momentarily. "Sure," he murmured. He didn't know where else she could go.

The nurse returned with a robe and painkillers and she and the doctor urged her up from the plinth and prepared to move her along. The moment the woman reached Matt her right hand reached out and her hand clamped down on his wrist.

Dr. Fields looked at the grasp with a frown before her brown eyes darted up to Matt. "You've obviously made a good first impression," she murmured dryly.

"She's hurt and alone in a strange place," Matt reminded her, "can't blame her for wanting to stick with the first friendly face she's seen."

"Right," Dr. Fields dismissed, "well you can't stay with her Bluestone."

"I know," he murmured. He was tired, still soaked and cold and probably only conscious because of adrenaline. He needed to go home, change into dry clothes and get some heat back into him. He looked to the woman warily.

"Alright," Dr. Fields murmured, "tell you what, you bring her to a bed and I'll get her something to help her sleep."

Matt frowned, he knew the woman needed rest but it seemed like a deception, the good doctor knocked her out so he could sneak off. 'You don't know her,' he reminded himself, 'and this is the best place for her.' He nodded reluctantly and allowed the nurse to lead them out of the room and up the corridor.

Twenty minutes later Matt departed from the hospital, leaving the woman unconscious in a bed on a crowded ward, and hooked up to a drip of clear fluids. He should have felt relieved but he only felt a tinge of guilt.

The detective called down a cab and headed for home, taking care to call Elisa en route and assure her that he and the woman were still alive. Elisa berated him for his stupidity in plunging into a lake in the middle of winter before joking that he'd better take care not to lose his fingers to frostbite. Matt had jested back rudely that there would be other appendages he would fear losing before his fingers. Elisa had retorted that his humour must mean he was good and well and then suggested he had purposely half-drowned himself to escape the paperwork of a homicide. Satisfied that Elisa could carry on without him and wasn't angry with him, Matt ended the call and paid his cab fare.

The detective then headed up the brown apartment block he called home to a modest apartment on the eighth floor that only too recently had been damaged by an explosive and an overeager Broadway throwing a criminal about the place. Matt wondered how long it would be before his neighbours demanded he left. He couldn't decide what interfered with his personal life more- crime or fantasy? Considering the nude girl with feathers on her back he was aiming towards fantasy right now.

With relief Matt abandoned his clothes in a damp heap on his bedroom floor before donning a new pair of trousers and shirt and huddling up to the electric fire in his living room. He realised it was the first he had bothered to turn the thing on as he was rarely in his living room to enjoy it. He wasted a few selfish minutes in front of the fire before heading through the open planned living room to the kitchenette and fixing himself up a quick microwave dinner.

Matt returned to the office as morning headed into noon. By the Elisa had called it quits and headed home to bed, given her late night trouble Matt couldn't blame her. He spent a few tedious hours adding notes to hers with regards to the late Jimmy and then writing up a report on the mysterious woman from the park.

By three p.m Matt was ready to call it quits but fate had other plans for him.

"Detective Bluestone?"

Matt looked up from his desk tiredly at the blonde officer who was looking at him anxiously. "Yes?" he queried wearily.

"The hospital's on the phone for you," she retorted, "line two."

Matt's eyes widened as he lifted up the receiver on his desk and hit the flashing number two, knowing it couldn't be good.


	2. Chapter 2- Tricksters

Owen Burnett studied his reflection with a cool, emotionless calm. A plain faced man stared back- generic blue eyed, blonde, not handsome nor ugly, rather an entirely forgettable face, the only thing slightly askew was the left arm of stone otherwise he had the stereotypical look of an everyday office worker. He hadn't minded this form when he had known in the back of his head that he could escape it but the moment it had become permanent, the moment it had been made a punishment he had started to quietly loathe it.

Now Owen wondered if perhaps he could cast it off after all without exploiting the loophole of Alex. His young ward was still fast asleep under the watchful eye of his father, not yet ready for magic lessons. Even if he was awake his father, David Xanatos, might decide today was not a day for magic. He was adamant that his son learn other skills too, after all he didn't have a magical backbone in his bone but had still managed to climb to soaring heights. David wanted his son to be brilliant and powerful but he didn't want him crippled from relying too much from magic. The magic came from his mother Fox's lineage and she had only demonstrated a use for it once- to protect Alex. Magic was dormant in Fox because it had been hidden from her, a loss in ways but just like her husband she had managed to thrive without it.

Owen sucked in a breath wondering if he had really felt something or if it had just been a dream born from desperation and hope. He had awoken at the dawn with a tremble, there had been an odd rush of something through him but he could not be sure what it was. It had been strange and terrible, a ripple of power and a pang of pain and then it had almost felt like a weight had been lifted from him or perhaps a curse. It was impossible but that was how it had felt.  
There was only one way to find out for sure but he was afraid to try it, wary that he would only suffer disappointment as he had in the past. He parted his lips slightly to dare to attempt it before being interrupted by the intercom system in his room buzzing.

"Owen could you come here please," Fox's voice called out. "There's an Indian dancing in our living room."

It wasn't exactly the words one expected to hear first thing in the morning but Owen's face bore no surprise as he leaned down to the intercom to answer. He held down the button and retorted politely, "on my way madam."

Though his face remained impassive as he exited his room and marched up the hall to the steps that would lead to the living room Owen was burning inside with something he hadn't felt for a while- excitement.

When Owen reached the large living room of the Xanatos abode in Manhattan he found Fox Xanatos standing to one side with her arms folded as she watched what appeared to indeed be a dancing Indian. Despite the early hour Fox looked as beautiful as ever, her auburn hair hung long and free, almost to her waist in glossy waves that shimmered bronze beneath the chandeliers, and her enviable curves were wrapped up in a modest but flattering, tight, dark navy, satin night robe marked with the gold monogram Fox at the left breast. Owen had no opinion of the redhead's looks save an understanding of why they might appeal to his master David Xanatos.

The Indian was clad in a cream buckskin top and leather leggings with a bright blue band of cloth about his waist, a ribbon of green on his left wrist and a ribbon of red on his right wrist and a colour belt going from his right shoulder diagonally down his torso to his waist. He danced with enthusiasm to dance music playing from a nearby radio, waving a three tiered, silver candlestick in his left hand and an ornamental bronze poker in his right.

"I don't know how he got in here," Fox remarked with suspicion, "no one alerted me to him. I came in and here he was dancing."

Owen felt a small smile tug at his lips but he resisted the gesture. He walked over to the radio and flipped it off.

The Indian stopped and looked over to Owen in despair. "Aww it was getting to the good bit," he commented mournfully. "What's love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more!" he sung off-tune happily.

"Indeed," Owen retorted icily. He took in the Indian's appearance- young and handsome, pitch black hair that grew downwards in messy spikes, swarthy skin and deep eyes of liquid dark chocolate. Owen did not recognise the form straight away but the pointed ears were enough of a giveaway. He thought quickly of all the members of his extended family that it could be, lamenting the fact that he would know the answer immediately if either of them took their true form.

The Indian looked at him with a mischievous glint in his eye as he cocked his head from right to left like a confused dog. "I had heard you had taken a rather dull form but I didn't quite believe it," he mused. "It's very formal and stiff." He stepped forward and reached out a hand with the poker still clutched in it towards Owen's round glasses.

Owen stepped back swiftly with a frown.

"Come on," the Indian commented eagerly, "let me try them on."

"No," Owen retorted bluntly.

Fox uncrossed her arms and came to stand near them though she was careful to keep enough of a distance that if the Indian chose to attack she would have time to defend. "Owen do we have a problem here?" she queried impatiently. "Who is this man?" She knew her husband had made enemies far and wide including some Indians not that long ago and was slightly concerned that this man might be here looking for vengeance.

"Yes Owen, who am I?" the Indian quipped mockingly with a bright smile. "You've gotten rusty haven't you? Hmm let me give you a clue." He let out a low yip followed by laughter that sounded oddly like barking.

Owen sighed. "Coyote," he answered carefully.

"The one and only!" Coyote answered proudly. He gave a scowl and added sourly, "at least I was until you're boss copied me, absolutely scandalous." He tutted and shook his head.

"Coyote?" Fox echoed.

"No connection to the Pack's Coyote," Owen assured her.

Coyote shook the candlestick in Owen's direction as he grumbled, "not for lack of trying."

Owen reached out for the candlestick but Coyote jumped back out of reach with a snicker. He spied Owen's stone arm and looked at it curiously. "Now that's an odd ailment," he mused, "but why do you bear it still?"

"None of your concern," Owen answered stiffly as he tugged his navy blazer sleeve down in a failed attempt to hide the stone hand. "Why have you trespassed here?"

Coyote frowned and gave him an odd look. "Can you really not know? Didn't you feel it? Come now, that's why I am here, I thought you'd know about it!"

"Know about what?" Owen queried impatiently. He spied the fear that darted through Coyote's eyes before he managed to conceal it.

Coyote glanced in Fox's direction before he bounced forward and leaned until his nose was pressing against Owen's. "He fell," he whispered so that only Owen could here, "Oberon has fallen." He pulled back from Owen and let out a loud laugh. "I think you should be a good host and show me the sights," he urged.

Owen caught his meaning as he kept his own shock from his face, they needed to go somewhere private. He felt an odd sensation and didn't know what it was- fear or relief? So was that what he had felt this morning then, Oberon falling? Such a thing didn't seem possible.

Fox's gaze turned suspicious. "Owen what's going on?" she demanded.

"Nothing madam," Owen lied as he wondered at Tatiana's fate and if Fox with her dulled senses had felt anything, "just family business of a sort. I'll escort this gentleman away now." He gestured to the double doors he had walked through.

"Really?" Coyote pouted. "Through the doors? How boring."

"Try to be conspicuous for now," Owen advised. "Of course with your get up that's asking a bit much I suppose." He could feel the excitement growing inside him mixing with the fear and found it hard to keep buried within, the anticipation was almost too much to resist!

Coyote caught the serious, hinting gaze in Owen's blue eyes and he nodded. He abandoned the poker and candlestick to the coffee table and bounced happily along to the doors.

Owen followed after him at a brisk walk. "Won't be long madam," he called back to Fox as he slipped through the doors. He took care to shut them behind him before urging Coyote to the staircase.

They walked down several flights, or rather Owen walked and Coyote danced and jumped, pausing every so often to suggest other means of travel. He put on a front of energetic excitement but Owen knew it was a chaotic anxiety. Owen kept glancing at the security cameras and shaking his head, pushing on down the many flights until they finally reached the bottom of the building. They hastened past the security guards, who looked at Coyote in bafflement, and exited to a busy Manhattan street.

Owen kept walking until they reached a secluded alleyway. It wasn't exactly the nicest spot for a return but at this point he didn't care, he was desperate to see if Coyote was telling the truth and if his suspicions from earlier were correct. He moved into the alleyway and he thought hard of a form that had all but been sealed away from him. He started to spin and opened his mouth to say the words and dared to hope that with them something else would come.

"Here's Puck!"

In a shower of gold and red sparks the form of Owen Burnett was lost, replaced with the jovial elf-like form of a younger male with a wide grin, long, silvery-white hair and dark glittering eyes. His costume was colourful and bright- a red top with gold trimming at the short shoulder sleeves, matching knee high boots, navy leggings and a band of royal purple cloth that sat like a one strapped toga held in place with a gold crescent moon brooch at his left shoulder and a large belt of gold.

He paused to look down at his form with delight. Alex was nowhere near him which meant Coyote had to be right- Oberon's curses and rules were no more. "But how?" he pondered in a voice much more jovial and high pitched than Owen was capable of.

"Oberon is no longer in charge," Coyote replied as he looked at the impish figure. He sounded grim but there was a gleam of happiness in his eyes for his companion."Is this the place to talk? You need to know what's happened at home," he added darkly.

Home, a double edged sword, a place Puck had tried to avoid and yet longed to be in. He had been gone from there for over a thousand years and yet when the Gathering had happened it hadn't seemed long enough because he had found Xanatos and life had become exciting, thrilling and unpredictable and he hadn't wanted to leave that for boring, predictable Avalon. Yet when Oberon had banned him suddenly he had wanted to be back on Avalon's magical shores, exploring the ever shifting medieval like ruins of his childhood and playing mischief and magic with his siblings once more.

"Weren't you at the Gathering?" Puck queried curiously.

"Yes," Coyote admitted as he shuffled uneasily on his feet.

"How are you here then?" Puck demanded.

"It happened while I was still in Avalon. You must have felt it too," Coyote mused, "like a lock being opened or a weight being lifted but a lot of pain too. Well the earth split with it in Avalon, the sea turned angry, the sky grew black..." Coyote trailed off and glanced about their surroundings suspiciously.

Puck danced about with a taunting smile. "So the trickster reveals his form as coward and weak, a dog of custard, frightened and meek."

Coyote scowled at him and clenched his fists angrily. "Hey you weren't there!" he snapped. "And apparently you didn't feel it either! No surprise, you're so damn human you didn't even know me!"

"Know you? You wear a guise still, mortal disguise most ill!" Puck taunted before he could help himself. It had been months since he had last been in this form. He had an urge to flit and fly about but was too wary of the looks they were already garnering. The alleyway was a shady haven no more.

"You know guise is short for disguise," Coyote remarked pointedly, "rhyming the two is cheating."

"Your form is not subtle, no purpose is clear, it must simply be the truth that you fear," Puck retorted sinisterly.

"Are you quite done?" Coyote growled at him.

"Quite," Puck answered as he gestured with one hand behind Coyote, "because we have company."

Coyote turned and grinned at the approaching officer- a nervous, young, blonde haired male who was regarding Coyote and Puck with unease as if he couldn't quite decide who was the stranger of the two.

"I'm going to play the racial card," Coyote vowed quietly, "what are you going for? Escaped lunatic?"

Puck folded his arms and rolled his eyes despairingly. "I'll simply say we're actors, it's less offensive."

Coyote shrugged. "Dull," he lamented.

* * *

Midday found Puck and Coyote in the ruins of the clock tower, the only place Puck though might be secure for talking in the city. It had taken a few minutes to assure the officer that they belonged to an acting troupe and then it had taken more time for Puck to decide on a safe place to discuss things. Then Coyote had turned pale and quiet and chosen to waste time in the park distracting himself with fountains and the hotdog stand. Whatever news he had he was evidently both reluctant to share and yet desperate to unload.

Puck lounged up against a half-blackened stone wall and gazed at Coyote with suspicion. The trickster was sitting cross-legged on the ground playing with two stick men he had formed from debris he had found.

"Did you run away?" Puck accused. "If you did, shouldn't you be back in whatever patch of earth you've been calling your home away from home?"

Coyote continued to stare down at the stickmen he was playing with as he answered. "Avalon brought me here and I did not leave alone. Sure what thought have you given any of us?" Coyote snapped. "You forsook us because you found something better to love."

"Love?" Puck bristled at the word. "What an odd notion, the humans fascinate me but I don't love them."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Coyote sang in a low voice. "You can't lie to a liar."

"And you can't trick a trickster," Puck retorted with a look of ire. "Tell me the truth Coyote or I'll take my leave of you."

"And what?"

Puck shrugged as Coyote looked his way. "Enjoy my newfound freedom perhaps, maybe explore the world and rejoice because no one can imprison my magic anymore."

"Oh someone can," Coyote said darkly.

"Are we nearing the terrible truth at last?" Puck quipped. He glanced to the remnants of the clock, the six that acted as a door to the outside world was missing leaving the room eternally exposed to a draught.

Coyote stood up at last, bringing the stickmen with him. He paused and pocketed them before placing his hands on his hips and looking Puck's way. "Oh fine, it's why I sought you out I suppose. I thought you would have had at least an inkling to it though. Although, I don't think you'll be inclined to help."

"What do you mean?" Puck pried.

"Well Oberon banished you, everyone knows it, and worse, he banned you from taking form too, except to teach that mortal boy magic. You;re a glorified wizard babysitter, it's humiliating."

"Get to the point," Puck remarked bitingly.

"The point is why would you want to help Oberon then?"

"Why indeed?" Puck mused with a smile.

"Well because someone else is in charge," Coyote retorted gloomily.

"Tell me words true and good and perhaps you will be understood," Puck suggested. 'It's like pulling teeth from a shark,' he thought in irritation, 'painful for all concerned.'

"Again with the rhyming. Alright, it was the swan king, Cygnus, he overthrew Oberon."

Puck raised his silvery-white eyebrows in surprise at this. He knew the name, it brought back images of a powerful, aloof being in Avalon, stern and distant, too wrapped up in his own affairs to be perceived as a threat. "Why?"

"Because his daughter is missing," Coyote confessed at last, "and for some reason he's blaming Oberon or one of his children, says the evidence led that way."

"Which daughter?" Puck pried. He recalled the swan king's family, he had at least six daughters and eight sons if memory served.

Coyote stiffened slightly before rubbing at the back of his neck. "Well this is the problem, it's Riona, the black swan."

Puck's eyes widened. "I see," he said quietly. "Well this is a predicament."

Coyote nodded. "Sure, that's the word."

"Why did it take you so long to tell me this?" Puck demanded. "We've wasted hours already."

"It wasn't a peaceful takeover," Coyote informed him bitterly, "his children are immune to iron, remember? They used it and then when they weren't getting answers quickly enough they did other things too." He stiffened in discomfort. "You know that family, not so terrible but there are a few bad eggs." He gave a bitter, mocking grin at this. "And a lot of influence from that witch queen stepmother, Saraphine."

Puck spied the pain in Coyote's eyes before he vanquished it. "There's more you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"Lots," Coyote answered with a false brightness to his voice, "but that's what you get for abandoning your family."


	3. Chapter 3- A Dip in the Pond

Usually, Matt loved the weird and wonderful but when he hadn't had some decent sleep and coffee it tarnished his joy of dealing with the odder things of the world. This afternoon instead of getting to head home for a much needed rest Matt had had to return to the hospital. Now here he was, a little too tired to be dealing with this new strain of oddity and the theatrics that came with it.

"I don't know how she got out there," Dr. Fields commented scornfully. "Hell I don't know how she's awake already with what we gave her."

Matt followed the doctor's gaze across the room to the tall glass windows and the garden view they offered. They were on the ground floor where a sealed garden served as a tranquil spot for some patients. It offered a small garden retreat of carefully trimmed potted plants, a small patch of grass, two benches and a pond. It was the pond, half-frozen, that took up Matt's attention, or rather one of its occupants. The woman from the lake was seated in the centre of the pond, knees hunched up and water up to her chest as she sat looking about forlornly.

"How the hell is she not suffering hypothermia?" Matt wondered aloud.

"Oh she probably is," Dr. Fields murmured, "it's adrenaline keeping her oblivious to the effects but that won't last, she will go into shock." She was standing with her arms crossed and looking outside with a frosty scorn.

"Any attempts to bring her in yet?" Matt demanded.

"We called you before we located her," Dr. Fields reminded him, "I only got alerted to her present state five minutes ago."

Matt nodded. "Alright, well I'll go out there then."

"Take a blanket," Dr. Fields suggested, "no good wasting another coat."

Matt frowned at her biting tone before he obeyed. He snatched up a blanket from a waiting bed and headed to the double doors that led outside. He pushed down on the handles and was surprised when neither budged.

"The doors are locked," he remarked dumbly.

"I did say I don't how she got there," Dr. Fields retorted pointedly.

Matt glanced over his shoulder crossly at the woman. "Can someone get me the keys?" he snapped.

Dr. Fields sighed and nodded. "I have asked for the keys," she retorted calmly, "we're just waiting for them."

Matt mumbled a curse just as a young, startled looking male porter came sprinting up towards them, wide eyed and keys jingling loudly in his left hand.

"Here," Matt ordered bluntly as he extended a hand for them.

The porter thrust the keys out to Matt after taking in the detective's badge glinting at his belt. "Sorry," he babbled, "it's chaos in here tonight, the bad weather and all makes it busy."

Matt dismissed the excuses with a shake of his head before he took the pair of keys and slotted one into the lock on the left door. The lock turned with ease and Matt was able to push down the handle and free the door.

The woman glanced up cautiously as Matt came to join her in the cold. The early evening had begun, the sky above had turned a deep, dark sapphire blue, there was frost building on the grass and branches of the small, ornamental plants, and ice was starting to appear on the tiles.

Matt frowned as he felt his shoes threaten to skid twice as he walked across the patio and then began to follow the stone slabbed path through the patch of grass to the pond.

The path wasn't even a set one, the stone slabs were separate meaning Matt had to swap hard stone for slippery grass with every step. With the threat of frost and ice it took the detective a painfully long time to reach the pond. He figured by the time he got there he might know what to say but he was wrong.

"You really like the water don't you?" the detective quipped with a small, stupid smile.

She blinked slowly, hands about her shoulders now and knees raised close as she sought modesty. The hospital robe on her was soaked right through, clinging to her front like a second skin and leaving little to the imagination. The robe was open at the back exposing the bandages and gauze strips on her back alongside stitching and a few still visible scratches.

"You know I'm not sure what happened to you," Matt continued in a sympathetic tone, "but whoever did it, I'll find them." He crouched so that he was eye level with her. "And until then I'll make sure you're kept safe." He paused realising how personal the offer sounded when he didn't really mean it like that. He realised how false his offer was considering the force's resources were already low and stretched, no one was going to authorise twenty-four seven protection for this woman, not at Matt's whim without a suggestion of who the criminal might be. Where would they even be protecting her? Where did she come from?

"What's you name?" Matt pried.

She bowed her head and stared down at the half-frozen water she occupied.

Matt wondered if she was too traumatised to talk or afraid of the consequences if she did speak. Was English even her first language? "Alright," he assured her, "you don't have to talk yet. How about you come out of the pond? It's cold, not the right time of year to be in the pond although there's probably no right time of year for that."

The blue eyes were back on him again and he realised it wasn't fear they bore but sadness.

He raised the blanket and held it out to her, hopeful that she would understand the gesture if not his words.

She stood with an obvious reluctance and accepted the blanket, fixing it about herself awkwardly before she wading out of the pond. If she felt the cold she did not show it save for the faint mist that escaped her lips. Matt offered a hand but she refused it, instead looking at him curiously until he turned and started walking back.

Matt was beginning to regret coming here alone, he had no clue what to do with the woman, when he saw what was waiting for them behind the glass doors his thoughts shifted. It took only a few seconds before the steel bin was tossed into the doors sending shards of glass shattering outwards. Matt had scarcely time to react but thankfully the many years of evading and fighting criminals and the more recent months of tackling and dodging monsters had imprinted on Matt and his body knew what to do before his mind even registered what was happening. The detective ducked low, pulling the woman down with him, bowed his head and raised his free arm to shield himself from the rain of glass.

Once all the glass was fallen Matt tugged out his Browning and stood up hastily to take aim at the approaching foes.

There were three in total, all male and all human although Matt was quite certain there was a whiff of something else about them though he could not quite place what exactly that something else was. The tallest was six feet with scruffy, dark brown hair that hung down in uneven spikes, fierce golden-brown eyes, a snarl that revealed sharp looking teeth, fair skin that was smudged at the cheeks with dirt and a tough, lean build. The second had caramel brown hair with copper-brown streaks, his eyes were a dirty flint grey and his skin was swarthy, he stood at five feet eight with a muscular build. The third had a mess of jet black curls, pale, almost clear blue eyes and alabaster skin with scarring at his lips and throat, he was the tallest and the most muscular. All three looked to be somewhere between their late twenties and early thirties and they all wore black leather jackets, torn, dark jeans, ripped t-shirts and scuffed boots.

"I smell dinner," the first snarled with a wide toothed grin.

"Poultry's my favourite," the second remarked.

"Stay where you are," Matt snapped at them crossly.

The three exchanged a look and the one with copper streaks snickered. "He looks tender," he commented, "a nice, tasty human."

Matt aimed his gun at the blonde's chest. He tried to release the woman's hand so that he could flash his badge but she had both her hands wrapped tightly about his wrist.

"I'm a detective," Matt remarked sternly, "and you three are already guilty of damaging property and risking endangerment to people, don't add to it."

The three exchanged a look, the blond continued to look amused whilst the dark haired male looked puzzled.

"Give us the bird," the brunette with the copper streaks ordered, "and we won't eat you too."

"Eat me?" Matt rolled his eyes. "Must be drugs," he muttered. 'Of course,' he realised, 'they're probably high and at the hospital looking for their next fix.'

"Hand her over," the male with amber eyes snapped. He stepped forward menacingly with his hands raised slightly and tensed like claws ready to strike.

Matt glanced at the man's hands and realised that they had claws, long, sharp and a dark grey like a wolf's. The redhead tensed and tightened his grip on his gun as he met the male's unusual eyes. "Don't move," he commanded bluntly, "or I will shoot."

"Flimsy looking weapon," the brunette scoffed.

"It's tougher than it looks," Matt jested.

The three men started to move simultaneously, coming at Matt in a run, laughing and jeering as they did.

BANG! Matt was good on his word, aiming to hurt but hopefully not kill. The blonde let out a snarl and a curse as the bullet cut through his right shoulder in a spray of blood.

The other two were coming fast, too fast. Matt braced for impact just as the woman pushed him out of the way with a surprising show of strength. Not expecting the blow, Matt stumbled and slipped on a patch of frost and landed hard on his rear. He only just caught the sounds of a sharp slap as the woman smacked the brunette hard across his nose causing him to emit a yelp. Matt was startled by the sound as it really was a yelp, like the kind a dog would make.

The male with the black curls stopped running and glared at the woman as he let out a low guttural snarl. "You're prey, you don't stand a chance," he warned her.

The blonde was now clutching at his bloody shoulder with a frown whilst the brunette with the copper streaks was scowling and rubbing at his reddened nose.

"Hold it right there!" The voice was the only warning the dark haired male had before Elisa Maza's feet collided with his chest sending him to the ground in an attack from above.

The other two males looked up in surprise and paled slightly at the sight of the female detective arriving with a gun drawn, of course it was probably not the gun but rather the large, fierce eyed, male gargoyle holding her that caused the trio to look alarmed.

Matt was on his feet, gun raised and ready again but he needn't have bothered. The trio had decided on a retreat. Matt offered a vain yell of, "hold it!" but he couldn't back it up with gunfire, he wasn't one to shoot someone in the back, not unless they had proved too dangerous to let live. He began a pursuit, chasing after them breathlessly as they raced back into the hospital and through the gathered crowd. Matt unfortunately was hindered by the gathering of people and struggled to keep the three in his vision as he moved.

The copper haired detective made it downstairs and outside to the front of the hospital where he lost them on the streets. Frustrated, cold and tired, he let out a curse before holstering his gun and returning to the hospital garden.

He arrived in time to find Elisa and Goliath, her gargoyle air taxi, gone as quickly as they had appeared and Dr. Fields attempting to corner the still nameless woman in the garden.

The woman had been backed up against a wall and was letting out a warning hiss as she glowered at the approaching doctor.

The doctor moved slow, offering sweet, gentle worded sentiments as she approached with a needle ready in her right hand.

Guessing at her good but misguided intentions, Matt hastened outside to prevent any more violence.

Dr. Fields jumped slightly when Matt's hand gripped her right wrist in a restraining manner. "I don't think she's ready for sleep," Matt said calmly with a small smile as the doctor glowered at him.

"Oh really," Dr. Fields answered sardonically, "and when did you get your PhD Bluestone?"

"Look," Matt said quickly, "how about I take her off your hands? She's obviously still being targeted and she is only putting other people at risk by being here."

Dr. Fields gave him a scowl in answer as her brown eyes darted to the broken door and then back to the woman. "Well I can't argue with that but she's clearly unhinged Bluestone, she was sitting in the pond in the middle of winter for God's sake, woman will probably get pneumonia."

"Becky...Dr. Fields," Matt corrected hastily in response to the look of ire, "I will make sure she's looked after."

"And are you going to make sure our doors are looked after?" Dr. Fields quipped sarcastically with another directed look at the shards of glass glittering amongst the frost.

Matt suppressed a sigh. "Criminal damage, I'm sure the hospital has insurance to cover it, just see the appropriate people fill in the appropriate paperwork and I promise I will do the same. Now look, I've got to get going, can you discharge her?"

"I really shouldn't but you're right, the woman is trouble and her safety isn't worth jeopardising the hospital and asides from some questionable mental issues which may perhaps be PTSD she is in decent physical health, of course that dip in the pond might have ruined that. Bring her inside and let me give her a check-up."

Matt looked at the hand holding the needle that he still gripped.

"I won't drug her," the doctor assured in a laboured tone with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

"Alright then." Matt released Dr. Fields and stepped past her to offer a hand out to the woman. "It's alright, just a quick check-up and then we can go," he said to her reassuringly. He still wasn't entirely sure if she understood him or not, that was mere speculation on his part.

The woman scrutinised his hand briefly before placing her own in it.

Matt directed Dr. Fields to lead the way before following after her with the woman.

The check-up took just over an hour and involved getting the woman fresh, dry robes. Her pulse, breathing and temperature were checked and her now soaked bandages stripped and trashed before her wounds were inspected again and redressed. The doctor was unimpressed but admitted that she was showing no signs of suffering a chill, no shivering, no laboured breathing or sniffling or sneezing and whilst it was impossible to insure there was no delirium or memory loss she seemed focused and alert enough. With reluctance, Dr. Fields finally discharged her into Matt's care.

"God help her if you're the best she can do Bluestone," Dr. Fields remarked nastily as she dismissed them from the ward.

Matt merely smiled as he escorted the woman from the ward, once more offering her his coat as a guard against the cold. This time it was a heavier, black winter coat, one Matt didn't mind giving up as much as his favoured trench coat, which was at home in need of a good wash and drying out.

Matt directed the woman to his car, bundling her into the front. He climbed into the driver's side, switched on the engine, cranked up the heat and then tugged out his phone and began dialling Elisa.

"Hey Matt," Elisa greeted brightly. Her voice sounded slightly static and came with a rush of wind in the background.

"Hey Elisa, thanks for the help," he said gratefully. "Are you still airborne?"

"Yes, sorry we'd to dart off again, couldn't risk increasing the gargoyle sightings. Did you get those guys?"

"Nope," Matt admitted with a sigh, "lost them on the streets."

"Well Goliath and I will keep looking then."

"Okay."

"What did they want Matt?" She was shouting, struggling to be audible over the background noise of the night air in the city.

Matt glanced at the woman who was peering at the small dream catcher hanging from his mirror with an intense interest. It was a gift from Elisa who didn't hold much stock in them and had considered it a novelty gift, given Matt had it hanging in his car rather than his bedroom he was inclined to agree it was just for decoration. "The woman," Matt admitted. "She's with me now."

Elisa tried to answer but all Matt got was a garbled noise ruined by static.

"You're breaking up," Matt called back, "ring me when you've landed." He hung up and smiled over at the woman. "Well I guess for now you're going to have to come to my house, unless there's somewhere else you can go?" He looked at her curiously, again wondering if she understood.

She blinked back at him nervously and shook her head.

"You do understand me!" Matt cried out happily before he could help it. His smile turned awkward and he rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand before considering his next words. "Um...well my flat's not great, bachelor's pad you know, kinda got a little blown up a few months ago too er but don't worry about that, we got those guys. Anyway, at least if I bring you there I can keep an eye on you properly and it's more secure than a hospital open to everyone. It's not really protocol, totally against it in fact but I'm not sure you're a normal case so I guess normal rules don't apply." He stopped babbling and asked, "is that alright with you?"

She nodded back calmly.

"Okay, good." Matt turned his attention to his car and manoeuvred it out onto the road. A hundred other questions to ask the woman burned in his mind but he cautioned himself to the fact that she was still scared and stressed and he wondered if that was why she couldn't talk.

When they reached a red light Matt looked to the woman again. "I don't mean to be rude but can you talk? I mean, in general can you talk? I understand if you can't now."

The woman looked sad and bowed her head to her lap before looking up to Matt with sorrowful eyes as she nodded.

"Alright, we're getting somewhere. Well if you have a voice it'll return then," he said confidently. "So you can't talk right now, is it because something very traumatic happened to you?" He cursed himself for his bluntness but wondered how else he was meant to get to the bottom of things.

The nodding came fast this time as fear crept into the sorrow of her stare.

"Okay, okay," Matt answered quickly, wanting to banish the anxiety he had conjured in her. "We don't have to get into it just yet. I'm a detective you know, it's my job to figure these things out and put bad people like the ones who hurt you away. When you're ready to talk about it you let me know."

Matt spied the takeaway store that lingered near his apartment block. Its lit up sign was dim, formerly white with red lettering, it was now yellow with letters missing and a large collection of dead flies at the bottom of the box. It was meant to read- J. Jackson's Beef, Bird and Pork but instead read J. acksons eef, Bid nd ork, not exactly appealing not that the name was great to begin with. Its windows were steamed up and smeared with greasy handprints and the occasional ass prints and lipstick smears from drunken patrons. Inside it smacked of a careless attitude to healthcare with grimy brown tiles that used to be white and were, like the yellowing walls, eternally stained with grease, sauce stains, bloodstains, and dried spittle as well as graffiti from markers, pens, lipstick, pens and whatever else had come to hand for the teenaged idiots who had insisted on leaving their mark. It was one step away from being shut down and Matt knew as a man of the law he should really be passing it on to the health department but the fact was Matt shamelessly enjoyed his grease soaked and deep fried chicken burgers served with thin, crispy fries that were sprinkled with enough salt to induce a heart attack.

Matt pulled into a space beside the takeaway as he realised it had been a while since he had last eaten anything. He looked to the woman curiously. "Would you like something to eat? Chicken maybe?" he suggested.

The woman instantly looked horrified and angry and Matt was stunned she was slapped him across his right cheek in a sudden moment of rage.

"Ouch!" Matt cried out in protest as he raised his right hand to the reddened cheek. "What did I say?" He ogled her in astonishment. "Are you a vegetarian? Hey that's fine if you are but I'm not and you shouldn't be so offended by that. I was only offering!"

The woman blinked at him and the anger seemed to dissolve from her eyes instantly and was replaced with apology. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but no sound came out. She raised her hand again but this time it was slow and she pressed her palm gently against Matt's hand which was clutching his cheek. She gripped his hand lightly, her touch soft, and blinked at him again, trying to convey something in her eyes.

Matt looked back at the woman with uncertainty, still not quite sure where the sudden burst of rage had come from. "Are you..you're not mad anymore, right?"

She shook her head.

"Am I allowed to eat a chicken burger without getting a slap?" he queried tentatively.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and a soft sigh escaped her before she nodded with a reluctant look.

Matt frowned. "You won't slap me but it will still annoy you, right?" he guessed.

She looked at him again with apologetic eyes as she nodded slowly.

Matt nodded this time. "Fine, I'll give it a miss. Are you hungry though? We can get something..." He swallowed hard, almost unwilling to voice the horrid word. "Vegetarian," he pronounced it like it was something to be reviled.

The woman shook her head.

Matt tensed as he felt her hand stroke his tenderly. He let his hand fall away automatically, expecting hers to do the same but instead she stroked his cheek. He wondered if she was trying to ease the hurt she had caused him.

"We'll just go to mine," he decided aloud, "it's not far and I can rustle up something there."

With reluctance and a forlorn look at the takeaway Matt drove on. He reached his apartment block and drove into the underground car park reserved for residents. Once the car was parked Matt guided his new guest over to the elevator.

When the metal doors opened the woman peered in with reluctance and interest, her head craning up to the ceiling and down to the floor. She took a step back and Matt was forced to take her by the hand and guide her in. When Matt hit the 10 button for his floor and the doors shut, the elevator binged and started moving the woman jumped and let out a fearful hiss. It was a strange noise and Matt pondered it as she grabbed both his arms and squeezed tightly as she looked about the elevator in alarm.

"You know I'm starting to think you're not from around here," Matt murmured.

The detective was grateful that no one else called for the elevator on their ascent, which was highly unusual. Usually the elevator was stopped at least three times and Matt was forced to make small talk with neighbours from different floors who looked to his badge with suspicion and often looks of revulsion or fear. It was the older residents who seemed to eye him with friendliness and calm, assured by his presence and hopeful that it meant their safety in the building. The younger ones seemed to think he would somehow figure out their petty crimes of skimping on their electric bills, smoking the occasional joint of pot or, in the case of the schoolkids, participating in under aged sexual activity and downloading porn without paying for the privilege. Others looked at Matt as if his mere presence meant danger rather than safety and he had to suppose lately that that was proving true. He had been a target more than once now for the crooks of the city and the deeper he dug into the Illuminati and the gangs the greater the danger became. Oh sure he was a member of the Illuminati now, lowest of the low, but that did not mean his intent to expose them had vanished. Then there was the likes of Tony Dracon and the gangs to consider, Tony was just one head and even incarcerated he was dangerous but there was more than Tony on the streets and the gang wars seemed to be never ending. Any time Matt or Elisa went undercover to expose them and gather evidence that was just another tally against them, another reason for the gangs to want them dead. Matt was just grateful he had no nearby family to be threatened and he worried that Elisa couldn't say the same.

They reached the tenth floor and the woman released Matt to run out of the elevator as if in terror of the doors closing and never releasing her again.

"Hey wait!" Matt called as he followed after hastily. "You're going the wrong way."

She paused and glanced at him before walking back.

"This way," Matt gestured to the left with a smile.

It didn't take long for them to reach Matt's apartment. He unlocked the door quickly and hit the lights before glancing about with a practised ease. There was nothing amiss and nothing out of order save for the big blue gargoyle barely in disguise with a trench coat and hat, standing outside at the balcony window with a wide grin whilst waving in at Matt.

Matt gaped at the gargoyle in a moment horror and gestured frantically back with a shake of his head and motioning shoo gestures with both of his hands.

The woman slipped in behind Matt and it was suddenly too late for the gargoyle, Broadway, to glide away unseen as her eyes instantly focused on him.

Matt tensed as he awaited the screams or, as it seemed to be in her case, hisses of alarm. When none came Matt looked to her in surprise. She wasn't attempting to flee either, instead she was regarding Broadway with curiosity. Matt decided that it was just another thing to add to the woman's mystery.


	4. Chapter 4- Demons and Angels

Elisa let out a gasp of awe and disbelief at the figure that descended from the skies. She had accepted a lot of things over the past year, mainly that gargoyles were real and every mythological character she had heard about seemed to also exist and was part of a very large extended family tree known as Children of Oberon but this still managed to send a jolt of shock through her. Her mother had raised her on African legends with a loose Christian upbringing whilst her father, who had until recently swayed from his Hopi heritage, had expressed an agonistic outlook in the household, which had rubbed off a little of Elisa too. With gods, small g and tainted with fae blood, to contend with she had not bothered recently to consider the bigger picture or the possibility of something bigger beyond. Frankly, it was enough contending with the weirdness here on earth without contemplating something greater in the afterlife. Yet here it seemed to be before her eyes, definitive proof that heaven was real.

"An angel," Elisa marvelled as the figure landed.

He stood and regarded her with disdain before looking to the figures who had occupied her attention until his arrival. He was handsome but in an ethereal way, somehow too attractive for a human. He stood graceful and proud with poise and noble features, a softness implied by his mighty white wings and downy, silvery blonde hair but ruined by his stern expression and the silver and gold armour that glittered on him.

Goliath regarded the newcomer with a wary look, not so convinced as Elisa that it was an angel, a winged man perhaps but not necessarily an immortal messenger of God.

It was late at night, coming up to eleven and they were down the street from the police station and the ruined clock tower. The streets, until just now, had been relatively quiet and Goliath had been able to risk a moment landing to walk beside Elisa.

"Where is she?" the stranger snapped in a cold, authoritative voice. He glowered at the two odd males before him with an onyx stare.

"She? Who's she, the cat's mother?" Puck retorted mockingly with a giggle. "Or the jackal's brother?"

The man's inky gaze darted to Puck's companion Coyote who was looking a little nervous. "You know who," he addressed him icily.

Coyote shrugged uneasily. "Do I?" he quipped weakly with a faint smile. "Not so sure that I do, I know a lot of people, a few birds too and bird people, my brother's one you know."

Without warning the man reached for the sword sheathed at his right side, withdrawing it so fast it was almost a blur. "No jokes trickster, this is an iron blade!" he warned.

Elisa tugged out her gun in an immediate response and raised it threateningly. "Hold it right there," she ordered. "I don't know how you do things up above but down here we have different rules."

The man regarded her impatiently like she was an irritating fly to be swatted. "Up above?" he echoed sharply.

Puck let out a snigger. "He's not an angel he's a bird," he scorned.

"An angel?" the man scoffed as he looked to Elisa scornfully. "At another time I might be flattered by that but now I have no time for your foolish ignorance."

"That's enough," Goliath said sternly as he took a step forward. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"That's not your business gargoyle," the man snarled. He gestured to Coyote with the tip of his sword causing the trickster to take a wary step back. "It's his."

"What have you pair done now?" Goliath queried wearily.

Puck clutched his right hand to his chest with a mock gasp of horror. "'Twas not him nor I but this man from the sky!" He chortled again.

"Why is always rhyming with you?" Coyote complained.

"It was popular once," Puck retorted defensively.

"Someone please explain," Elisa remarked with a hint of annoyance. She was unnerved seeing Coyote again and wondered why he was still taking the guise of her father Peter in his youth.

"Tell me where she is and there will be no need for explaining," the man snapped at Coyote.

Coyote shrugged and held up both his hands defensively. "I'm not good at finding people and why do you think I know anything anyway? We had this conversation before," he added darkly.

Goliath glanced about the pair and his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How have you taken that form Puck?" he demanded suddenly.

Puck gave a wide grin and shrugged nonchalantly. "Owen sneezed and I appeared," he jested.

"Oberon has fallen," the winged man answered coldly, "do not fall with him." His steely blue gaze remained on Coyote.

"What?!" Goliath cried out in surprise.

"Gargoyle this is not your concern," the man retorted in irritation.

"It's not mine either," Coyote said tiredly, "I have no idea where whoever you are looking for is." The Indian gave a sudden yelp of pain as the man smacked him hard with the flat side of his blade. Coyote staggered to one side and reached his right hand up to his now inflamed cheek as the flesh there felt like it was burning from the blow. He tensed feeling the point of the sword suddenly pressed against his stomach.

"That's enough!" Elisa snapped as she unfastened the safety on her gun. "You can discuss this matter without the violence."

"You escaped and came here for a reason," the winged man addressed Coyote accusingly. "You know where she is."

Coyote let out an angry snarl before he turned rapidly without warning to create a whirlwind. The wind began to speed off down the street.

"Oh sure leave me," Puck grumbled sullenly as he crossed his arms and frowned after the whirlwind.

The bird man flapped his large, white wings and took off into the air in pursuit of the whirlwind.

Goliath took the opportunity to clamp a firm, heavy hand down tightly on Puck's right shoulder.

The impish figure frowned and glanced back at Goliath with distaste.

"Explain yourself," Goliath said bluntly.

"Explain what?" Puck quipped innocently. "I'm just out for a night time stroll."

"Who was that guy?" Elisa demanded. "And who is he looking for?"

"And how are you in this form?" Goliath queried. "What does that man mean about Oberon?"

"Questions, questions, ask more than a few and the answers will confuse you," Puck replied mockingly. "The business of the fay is not the mortal way."

Elisa sighed and holstered her gun. "Anything to do with you guys is trouble," she complained. "The last time Oberon came to town he put everyone asleep and almost destroyed the place." She frowned at Puck. "And you're always causing problems," she added.

"How you wound me," Puck taunted. "At any rate I don't know much more than you pair about this mess." He glanced up at Goliath again, the wheels turning quickly in his head as he considered the gargoyle's potential use in all this. "That being is not an angel but a swan shifter, Prince Balthasar to be precise. The swan shifters are residents of Avalon but not Children of Oberon and thus they are not bound to his rules nor do they share his kin's weakness for iron. I am of the impression that during The Gathering the swan king Cygnus' daughter Riona vanished and he has reason to believe Oberon's Children are behind it."

"So he's overthrown Oberon for the offence?" Goliath quipped.

"And her brother, this Balthasar guy, thinks she's here?" Elisa demanded.

Puck shrugged, which was a tad difficult with Goliath's iron grip on his shoulder. "Apparently so, I cannot be sure. I wasn't at the Gathering as you well know, banned for life and all that." He nodded in the direction Coyote had fled. "Coyote is my source on this."

Goliath released Puck and stretched out his wings. "I suppose we may go after him then," he said reluctantly.

"Goliath wait a minute," Elisa interrupted suddenly. "The girl Matt found," she paused and looked up at him curiously, "could it be?"

Goliath frowned. "I'm not sure."

"What girl?" Puck demanded curiously. "Did Detective Bluestone find another conspiracy for himself?"

Elisa frowned over at Puck as she wondered about what he had told them. The trickster wasn't exactly known for his truth telling skills or morality and she didn't like to divulge about a vulnerable woman to him but if everything he had told them was true and the girl was the missing princess then Matt could be in danger with her. Hell he was already in danger with her, Elisa still hadn't heard from him about the three people pursuing them at the hospital. The only reason she and Goliath had even appeared for that was because she had picked up on the call over the police radio.

"Look I'm not sure of anything right now," Elisa said sternly, "how about we go after Coyote and learn more about this Oberon, swan king business first?"

There was the sound of yelps and screams from a distance.

"Time to go!" Goliath snapped. "I'll head up and see if I can spot them." He turned and began scaling the clock tower.

"How dramatic," Puck scorned.

"Are you coming?" Elisa queried.

Puck sighed. "I suppose."

The pair started running along the concrete pavement following after the sound of screams.

It was Goliath who reached the scene first.

The gargoyle glided from the rooftops to land between the swan prince and Coyote before another blow could be struck. "Enough!" he roared out angrily.

Bruised and bloodied, Coyote pressed his back against the brick wall behind him as he struggled to shake off his daze and stand upright again. It was difficult as his vision swam and nausea filled him caused by the throbbing pain emoting from around his neck thanks to an iron collar the swan prince had bound him with. The chain of the collar was in the winged man's left hand and he gave it a vicious yank causing Coyote to stumble to the ground again.

Goliath reached out for the chain angrily but the winged man jumped back effortlessly to avoid his grasp. With his right hand he raised his drawn sword which glinted with ruby red drops of Coyote's blood. "This is not your affair gargoyle!" he cried back.

There was a small crowd of alarmed and curious people about them taking pictures and filming on their phones. At least two had called for the police and a third was still on the line with an operator.

"He was flying!"

"What kind of a monster is that?"

"Is that a gargoyle?"

Goliath bristled at the words, no matter how much good he and his kind did the humans seemed ever quick to suspect the worst and fear him and the other gargoyles. He longed to be out in the open with them but if they weren't even willing to give him a chance...

"We need to go off the streets," Goliath addressed the bird man in a calm voice, "this exposure is unwise."

The pale haired man stiffened and glanced at the crowds angrily before snarling, "should I trust you to take us somewhere discreet and not into a trap?"

"I have no quarrel with you," Goliath reminded him. "I want only to keep the peace."

The man tugged sharply on the chain again causing Coyote to emit a colourful curse as his knees banged off cement once again. "His kind breeched the peace!" the man snapped.

"Well this isn't going to get you answers!" Goliath protested hotly.

"He's right," Elisa said calmly as she and Puck arrived on the scene.

Puck formed a rectangle with his fingers and thumbs and waved it up and down in the mock form of a camera lens. "No, no," he said loudly, "it's all wrong, the lighting's terrible!" He let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Honestly, send a talent scout out without the correct equipment and how can one do anything?"

"Wait," a youthful looking teen with a red baseball cap queried dumbly, "is this...is this a movie?" He looked at Goliath and the swan prince in puzzlement.

"It can't be," his brunette female companion sneered, "there are no cameras!"

Puck stepped towards them with a smirk and a conspiratorial look. "Well observed," he retorted sardonically. "We're just checking the scenery, visualising it as it were. It's going to look great," he announced as he held up one finger to the sky, "just not here!"

"Look prince," Elisa addressed the winged man with a degree of casualness, "we're all tense and on guard here but this isn't the way to figure things out. Let's all go somewhere quiet and calmly discuss what's going on."

The man frowned again before glowering past Goliath to Coyote who was trying in vain to prise the collar off despite how it singed his fingertips. "Fine but he isn't going to flee again," he said warningly.

"Alright," Elisa agreed hastily, "but the collar comes off."

"No," the man retorted swiftly.

Coyote was now gasping and choking as the flesh about the metal collar seemed to singe bleed as it turned redder and redder.

"It's hurting him," Elisa protested with a look of alarm. More concern than was deserved filled her voice as she watched Coyote struggle, only to Elisa it wasn't Coyote it was her father, poor Peter Maza struggling against the collar.

Goliath reached for Coyote, tugged his hands away from the collar and snapped it off with ease before discarding it to the ground with a look of disgust. He gripped Coyote's right arm tightly and gazed back at the swan prince coldly. "Let's go," he growled out.

"Where exactly?" Puck piped up.

"The clock tower," Goliath retorted quietly, dropping his voice an octave so the onlookers wouldn't hear. "Coyote and I will meet you there," he decided, "better we're out of sight."

"We?" Coyote spluttered indignantly. "I'm dressed as an Indian not a demon, bit racist saying I'm better out of sight." He continued to protest as Goliath pulled him down the street, round a corner and down an alleyway where he could scale a wall without observers.

The pale haired man made to pursue but was stopped by Elisa blocking his path. She held a hand out to him harmlessly and smiled. "I can show you the way," she said warmly.

"This could all be a trap," the man grumbled.

"Balthasar get that egg out of your ass already," Puck scorned him, "it's not a trap, this human and the gargoyle haven't the wit for that." He grinned happily at Elisa's scowl. "And I have no interest in prolonging your company, trust me I wouldn't continue to endure this if it wasn't necessary."

"I just want to know where my sister is," Balthasar snarled, "tell me that and you won't have to endure anymore."

"Would if I could," Puck retorted brightly, "but I can't so I shan't."

Balthasar rejected Elisa's hand but gestured for her to start walking.

The dark haired police officer led the way back to the clock tower, relieved that it was late at night and numbers on the street were few. She knew she was still going to have to smooth the whole gargoyle, Indian, birdman fight over later with the police station and the media but at least Puck had given a helping hand with that. Low budget movie about angels and demons, it could work as a cover story. Hell, the gargoyles could maybe stretch that out for a good week or so, Broadway would definitely go for it.

"So who's your sister?" Elisa pried as they walked.

"Not your business," Balthasar retorted hotly.

"You know you aren't going to get much help with that attitude," Elisa countered. "How would I know if I'd seen her or not if you won't give me a clue?"

"You have six sisters," Puck commented carelessly, "you need to narrow it down. They aren't all missing, are they?"

Balthasar frowned at him suspiciously. "Why exactly weren't you are the Gathering imp? Isn't that a requirement in your family?"

"Not your business," Puck repeated his words tauntingly.

"We're going to get nowhere with this nonsense," Elisa said with a roll of her eyes. She was eager now to ring Matt and ask about the girl, where he had taken her, what had happened to their pursuers and...and what? Did she have a crown? Feathers? She had turned up in a lake of swans after all, was it too much to think she could be this missing swan princess? If only her brother didn't seem so unfriendly and violent then Elisa might have contemplated revealing the possibility that his missing sister might be with a friend of hers.

They finally reached the shadows of the broken clock tower below which was the home of the 23rd precinct. Elisa gave Puck and the bird man a critical stare. "Yeah you guys are going to stand out a little too much just walking in here," she murmured.

"I can fly up," Balthasar retorted haughtily. He stretched his wings out and took off without waiting for a reply.

Elisa looked at Puck pointedly. "Think maybe Owen could make an appearance to get through the doors?"

Puck sighed before he turned around and immediately transformed into the dour form of Owen. "Lead the way detective," he said in Owen's dry voice.

Elisa hastened to the doors of the police station. Once inside, she got Owen discreetly to the sealed door that led up to the ruins of the tower. After keying in the code to unlock the door and granting him entry she pardoned herself to a trip to the toilet. Owen gave a cool stare that made it clear he doubted her excuse but he did not query it. Once he was out of sight Elisa tugged out her phone and began to dial Matt.

"Come on Matt," she murmured impatiently, "answer."


End file.
